Chapter 11 #2
“Teagan Lowery,” I say without trying to come up with some answer to her convoluted statement.
Josie sets her coffee down. “Teagan came into the shop her first week, ordering flowers for an assembly. I liked her.” She takes a sip of her coffee. When she puts her mug down, I refill it. “You want her for Nick?”
“I don’t know if want is the right word.”
She shakes her head. “Nick already knows her. She’s technically his boss and he’s coaching her son. Plus, Nick fills in when the trainer is gone sometimes. They’re in and out of the same building every day.” She tips her head.
“Knowing her and seeing her aren’t the same thing.
” I drink my coffee. “I wasn’t going to get involved because, hello frenemy.
Except Nick came in last night and he gave me some updates on Mack, like my opinion matters.
We got to talking and I feel bad for him.
The shit Aubrey did—that could’ve really messed him up.
He put the kids first, put his practice on hold, and went to South Africa to make sure Amelie was taken care of. ”
“He’s a good dad,” she says. “Always has been.”
The last bit stings. I’m not going to say anything to her about it because I deserve it.
“Anyway, we talk while Amelie was at dance class.” I shrug. “And then Teagan came in, and we start talking.”
“You’re a real Dr. Phil.”
Her words give me an idea. “I wonder how I can get one of those honorary doctorates? Then everyone would have to call me Dr. Liam.”
Josie covers her face with her hand and mutters something unintelligible.
“Teagan’s a widow and I got the impression she’s looking for friends. Who better of a friend than the single doctor in town.”
Josie’s grinning at me over her mug now, and it’s the grin that means she’s already three moves ahead and enjoying the view.
“So what do you want from me,” she says, testing me. “They already share a parking lot. I can’t introduce two people who say good morning to each other.”
“They’re past that.” And here’s the part that’s been eating me since she left the bar yesterday. “I think they need to be in a room where they have to talk as Nick and Teagan. Not Mr. Ashford and Ms. Lowery, coach and boss, dad and principal.”
Josie tips her head, studying me, and something moves behind her eyes that I like a lot better than the teasing.
“Look at you,” she says. “Thinking past your own nose.”
“It happens when you give me a challenge. You knew I wouldn’t back down.”
“Rarely.” She sets the mug down beside her on the counter. “So you’re telling me you found Nick someone and have no idea how to get them together?”
I lift my shoulders and drink from my mug.
“Liam . . .”
I cross the kitchen and stand between her knees, my hands on the counter on either side of her hips.
“You already know her. You already like her. She’s in and out of your shop all year for school flowers anyway.
So, what I’m thinking is you get her to the house and I’ll take another one for the team and be with Nick.
We’ll just happen to stop by but you’ve made this big meal so Nick has to stay for dinner. ”
She’s quiet a second, working it. Then: “You want me to do the actual work, and you take the credit.”
“We work together. We take credit. Honestly, having a happy Nick benefits the both of us. When he’s here for the errant Sunday dinner, he won’t be so dramatic.
” I kiss her forehead. I don’t tell her the part where, if he has someone, then I won’t always wonder if he’s pining for my wife.
I’d never admit that to anyone other than Harrison and JD.
“Huh.” She loops her arms around my neck. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“I think about a lot of things. You only catch the dumb ones out loud.”
“I’ll meet with her,” Josie says. “Because I want to, not because you told me to. And you,” she taps a finger against my chest, “The second you get in over your head with Nick, you call me. Not the guys, not your own face at Sunday dinner. Me.”
“Why does everybody keep saying that about my face.”
“Because it’s a billboard, Liam Page. We can’t leave or come into town without seeing it.” She kisses me, quick, and slides down off the counter. “Now move. Your son and my grandbabies are going to be standing in my kitchen in a few hours and there is nothing in this house to feed them.”
There’s enough in this house to feed a battalion. There always is. But I let her chase me out of the kitchen, because chasing me out of the kitchen is one of her favorite things and I’m not a man who denies his wife the small stuff.
Paige surfaces around noon, which on a Sunday for a teenager is the crack of dawn, and parks herself on the free stool in my basement studio with her laptop open. I take the pencil out of my mouth and set it on the notepad that I’ve scribbled all over the past two hours.
“The clip from Thursday hit a hundred thousand,” she says, not looking up. “The one where you got choked up about the soldier. I keep telling you, Dad. They want you wrecked.”
“Comforting, coming from my own child.” If I was near the drum kit, I would’ve given myself a ba dum tss. Instead, I strum a happy jingle.
Paige looks up and glares. “I’m monetizing your feelings. You’re welcome.” She flips the laptop around to show me a number I don’t fully understand and don’t let on that I don’t.
“Monetizing?”
She nods. “The apps are now paying you.”
“I don’t want it,” I tell her. “Make sure it gets donated somewhere.”
“On it.”
She heads back upstairs, leaving me with the mess of words on the sheet of paper that don’t make sense. Eventually, the words will come together, but until then, I close my notebook and put my guitar away.
My mother lets herself in a little after one with a pie in her hands she didn’t need to bring. Seeing her walk through my house always gives me pause. There was a time, when I couldn’t even speak to her. When I hated her.
Bianca got sober while I was away, after a lifetime of being a ghost in her own house.
Since, we were able to mend our relationship and since, she has done everything she can to make sure we have the best one.
She stepped up when it came to Noah and Paige but really pulled out all the stops for the triplets.
Noah tells me my mom goes over there every day to help Talisa and Peyton, so Peyton can have a break.
She kisses my cheek on her way past and tells me I look tired, which isn’t far from the truth. Then she and Josie disappear into the kitchen together where I’m not needed or wanted until it’s time to put meat on the grill.
At two, the front door opens and Stevie Nicks bursts through the house to greet us before Noah and Peyton can get the babies in the door.
Paige drops to the floor and welcomes all the dog kisses while giving the giant Irish wolfhound all the ear scratches.
Stevie Nicks then moves on to me, my mom, and finally the object of her affection, her grandmaw.
Those two have a bond which is cute to see.
Me, I go to the babies. I know they like me.
Well, they at least pretend to. All three are on top of the table, still in their carriers.
I hug Peyton, slap my son on his shoulder, and take Juniper out of her carrier.
I’m holding her for barely seconds when she extends her arms over my shoulder.
I turn and see my mom walking toward us.
“Come on,” I say as I hand Junie off to my mom.
“Great grammy loves her little Juniper,” my mom says as she makes baby sounds that Juniper seems to understand.
“Fine.” I look at the boys, seeing if I can tell them apart. I really can’t and that’s an issue.
“Hand me one,” I tell Noah.
“Take Mav, he’s in a mood.”
Clearly, by saying “hand me one” I was hoping Noah would literally hand me one. He watches me stand there and laughs and finally puts me out of my misery by pointing at Maverick.
I get Maverick unclipped and up onto my shoulder. He grabs a fistful of my collar and shoves the other fist in his mouth and leans his whole weight into me. I missed every version of this with his father. I’m not going to miss one with him, his brother or sister.
The next couple of hours are loud. Junie decides she’s against sitting in a highchair.
Jace gets handed to Josie, who walks him in slow circles and talks to him about the wedding flowers like he’s the groom.
Noah takes Maverick back when Mav decides Grandpa’s collar has given all it’s going to give.
I watch my son look at his son and promise that everything will be okay.
Noah’s patient, kind. He got that from somewhere.
Not from me. From his mother. From Katelyn, Mason, and Nick.
Stevie Nicks parks herself near Peyton and Junie, who takes food from Peyton’s plate and drops it on the floor for the dog.
“She’s teaching the baby to litter,” Peyton says, scrubbing something orange off Junie’s chin.
“Or Junie is teaching Stevie to beg.”
“You used to feed Cat,” Josie points out, “and that cat hated you.”
“The cat respected me.”
“The cat tolerated you. There’s a difference, and the cat knew it.”
Noah laughs, Maverick laughs because his dad did, and for a second the whole kitchen’s going at once—my wife and my son and my daughter and three babies.
All people I love, and a dog committing crimes under the table.
I came home for a funeral and stayed for this. Most days I can’t believe they let me.